


johanna in the mirror.

by sophomore heretic (crescendi)



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-06-02 17:45:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19446466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crescendi/pseuds/sophomore%20heretic
Summary: who is that in the mirror?a prize. a murderer. a girl.





	johanna in the mirror.

johanna stares at herself in the mirror.

she heard once the lights in the capital are designed to make you look better. might explain some of the looks of the capitol’s citizens, heh.

but she only ever sees herself in them. even under layers of makeup and in the prettiest dress in the world, she would still see herself in the mirror. still see a murderer. still see the blood on her hands. wasn’t there an old play about that? no matter how hard she scrubs her hands, they’re still stained with blood? yeah. not even the finest perfume could change that she’s stared into a terrifying girl’s face and just let the axe fly from her fingertips.

she holds a particular hate in her heart for the stylists. those who made into this desirable thing, a glittering treasure everyone wants to rub their grimy jewel-toned fingers on. she’s not a person to them, just another novelty, another plot twist.

johanna rubs the shiny ruby (blood) red lipstick under her thumb, wills it to smudge under the pad of her finger, to smear the image that the stylists, the capital made of her. first the weak, sniveling little girl, then the vicious, cunning young woman.

it stays unblemished. she sneers at her reflection, lets her face twist into something primal. 

she wonders if the careers feel like this after they win. if they feel this ugly and raw, if they’re woken up the horrors of this sick game. or if they show off their body count with pride. she’s not sure what’s worse—that someone could come out of this unscathed, or if no one could at all.

there’s a knock at the door. she fills her lungs with filtered air. the time for being the 71st victim is up. time to go face caesar and be a victor.


End file.
